


Culpable is an understatement

by inewwen



Category: Life Is Strange 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Poetry, Bitterness, Brief suicidal thoughts, Guilt, M/M, Poetry, Self-Hatred, Short, like really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inewwen/pseuds/inewwen
Summary: A poem about Finn’s feeling towards Sean while exploring some of his regrets.
Relationships: Sean Diaz/Finn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Culpable is an understatement

**Author's Note:**

> In this poem, Sean agreed to do the heist and kissed Finn. Sean didn’t wake up Finn when leaving the hospital in episode 4.

You like the boy you really do,  
You think he used to like you too,  
You felt giggly when he blushed for you,  
And melted when he kissed you. 

But now there’s hot tears of blood hiding under your fingernails,  
Yet you can distinguish the world around you,  
You’re fine- you thought he could be too.

But there’s something new- the boy’s full of spite.  
He cares no more; he has no clue.  
He say he couldn’t have known (yet neither could you?).  
But as stupid as you get, you still can accept,  
That rotten brain of yours- it’s somewhat able to understand;  
You deserve to take the blame.  
(Maybe you always did deserve that.)

And now the boy eye’s all white,  
And the boy name’s still not. 

Here you argue with a cracked mirror,  
Nose filled with grime,  
You’re drunk; renewing some vow  
That you and the boy made each other take,  
But you do it with the voice in your head;  
In a dirty, ill-minded hurry,  
Even if, as we all now,  
There’s nobody waiting,  
Nor caring, and there never will be.

You lay awake in an hospital bed,  
For hours to no end.  
Whimpering, tasting his name,  
It just feels wrong now- and there’s that typical smell of death.  
You wish you could already be there. 

You also wish to write about it,  
But you’re too weak to even inscribe it.  
Your hands are dirtied by the sounds  
Of your own actions and obsessions.

And you love the boy, you still do,  
And maybe the boy loved you too. 

You used to say that nobody could ever tell you what to do,  
You see why they all left you,  
You understand as well, you would have done that too.

There’s no I love you’s for you.  
You guess- with the fuzzy brain of a deadman  
That no one deserve the ugly punishment,  
Of falling in love with you.

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this, i hope you liked reading it too, also english is not my native language so i apologize in advance for any mistake!


End file.
